The forest wolves had kept her, for a time. They had forced her into a hole in the ground and threw food to her. Their Queen had thought herself in control, with her self-contained air of nobility, as if allowing Arace the chance to live as a prisoner was a mercy. They were fools and buffoons, the lot of them. Even Starfall with his disappointed eyes and his hovering. She had used that against him, whimpering whenever he drew near so that he might feel pity for her circumstances. Always her tapered muzzle would lift upwards to spy him with wavering eyes and pitiful expression but it seemed the male had a certain knack for their bond as well. He wasn't fooled, even if he was conflicted.

So she remained a prisoner for the stretching of a season. The taste of Tithe dried in her mouth and then disappeared and instead she paced her small confines with a low growl often, her sleek body falling in weight. They fed her but there is something to be said for a healthy exercise and she lacked that. Until, under the cover of night, a wolfess had stolen into the confines of the pines and coniferous trees with a proposition. It had made her yellow and white flecked eyes practically glow, the urge within her causing her claws to rip into the soft dirt she had tread on for so long. And with a little bit of fortune and strength she had been usurped from her captivity by a fallen limb the other had thrown down into the pit to help her climb.

It had been less than a day since her springing but beneath the veil of nightfall she had been given a task to reimburse the other for their time. It was fine - it was a task that she had been aiming for. One that would unleash the gathered fury within her, the tempest that drove her long, lithe legs into the bogs of Iromar beneath the veil of darkness. She is a hunter, an assassin, and she had been given her prey with accurate depiction. There was no stopping her now.

She had taken time at the riverside to roll her body in the mud - she was filthy already from her hole of a prison so a bit more did nothing but cover her scent. But she had made sure to carry pine needles with her from Taviora upon leaving and those she rolled in right after her mud bath so that her scent was a mix of the forest pack and the wandering lands.

The squeaks of pups alerts her to the vicinity of the den and her nose twitches, her steps stealthy and sly, ears twitching on autopilot lest some guard come out of the darkness. The wolf was in there but so were others and while her moral compass was quite south she did not wish to inadvertently kill a pup. She pauses near the den to think, wondering perhaps if the few scents she caught belonged to her own pups that had been abandoned her. The only thing to do was to lure the wolfess from the den but she could not announce her presence lest the other recognize her as a stranger. Arace circles behind the den and begins to dig at the dirt, knowing the racket of her clawing and digging would be loud enough inside to draw attention. They might think themselves under attack from a wily fox, perhaps, and come to investigate.